“Mr. Forrest, this is the Cheatham County Health Department calling with the result of your COVID-19 test. The test was positive.”
This is the kind of phone call that sends your mind into a whirl. First, you deal with the mental aerobics of trying to translate the crazy reverse phrasing of the medical community. It sounded like this in my mind: “Oh thank goodness! The test result was positive.” But then: “Wait! I’m dealing with the medical community. I think I was hoping for positive news, which would be negative. Or maybe I wanted negative positive results. Never mind. Let’s just call it inconclusive and enjoy our weekend.”
Let me cut through all the jargon and tell you: I had COVID-19.
Initially, my only symptom was a slight fever, but I live in the South, and this was the middle of July. If I’m not draped over an air conditioner vent, I can almost boil water in my armpits on a good day. Even a slight fever left me standing in a puddle.
Then came the aches and shortness of breath. My wife and daughter quarantined me to a small side room in our basement, beside the garage, where we kick off the nasty shoes we should’ve thrown away last year and keep trash that’s waiting to be hauled away. It’s not as nice as it sounds, but at least there is a couch and TV.
Back to that shortness of breath: there are 15 steps from that room to my upstairs restroom. I remember staring up at that insurmountable zenith thinking, “Do I achingly crawl up those steps, wheezing for my next breath, or take a chance on my bladder exploding? I’m betting my bladder is super-stretchy, and besides, I still have 18 episodes left of season 24 of Border Security: Canada’s Front Line that are not gonna watch themselves.”
Oh, yeah, I watched every appropriate thing the TV and Internet had to offer during those endless two weeks. I thought I’d get tons of work done, but the most energy I could muster was hitting “Yes” on the remote when our smart TV asked me, “Seriously, are you sure you’re still watching?! We’re out of stuff!”
Extreme fatigue was one of my most prominent symptoms, lasting for weeks after the virus. Two weeks after rejoining the human population, I pulled up to church, opened my car door, and thought, “This would be a good time for a naaapppzzzzzzz…” Forty-five minutes later I heard, “Jon? Jon! JON!”
I woke to the concerned face of our friendly mailman who had passed by twice, a half hour apart. Seeing my leg protruding from the open car door, He thought I had perhaps died or was in the throes of an overdose. I’m just glad I woke up before he jolted me with a shot of NARCAN.
The worst part of my COVID experience was the loss of taste and smell. I did not say “the LACK of taste and smell.” It was a complete loss. This is coming from a food LOVER. Tasteless food is gross! I ate a brownie. I remembered what it was supposed to taste like, but it was like chewing tasteless sludge being rejected by my throat.
We each have about 10,000 taste buds. They are tiny gifts from God. I’m not making light of this. God made our ability to taste, and He made food taste incredible, and occasionally awful so we know we shouldn’t eat something. It’s a blessing we take for granted too often. It’s also a microcosm of God’s creative plan. He made our mouths with this ability to enjoy flavor. In return, we should enjoy the fire out of it and show Him our appreciation for it. I lost 15 pounds during my bout with COVID-19. Unfortunately, many of those pounds returned with my taste, but every ounce had a brand new appreciation for God’s beautiful design.
This describes the universe. God loves us enough to create something lovely for us to enjoy and, in return, we bring Him glory. It’s such a great deal for us. We have a King who wants us to fear Him “for our good always” (Deuteronomy 6:24). And this is still true when dealing with the worst pandemic in modern history.
Please understand, this little article relates the lighthearted moments from my battle with COVID, and I hope they made you smile. But I also fully understand the pain this virus has brought to so many, including people I love dearly. I submit it as a humorous look at my personal experience and encouragement for those struggling to get through their own case. Please know I am praying for everyone who has been impacted by this awful disease and trusting God to bring comfort and healing.
About the writer: Jon Forrest is youth pastor at Bethel FWB Church near Ashland City, Tennessee. Read more from Jon: jondforrest.com or stealmyyouthministrystuff.com.